


On Tuesday

by supersoakerx



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Blissed-out Tears, Daddy Kink, Daddy!Charlie, Dominance, Dominance/submission, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Name-Calling, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Pussy Spanking, Squirting, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, daddy!dom, gagging, maybe some size kink, no in-story aftercare, spit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26911144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx
Summary: He gazes at your face. Your ruined red lip colour, your swollen lips, and those pretty eyes, bloodshot and full of unshed tears.A couple had escaped though, and left mascara-tinted tracks down your cheeks in their wake.“Oh, kitten.” Charlie takes a deep breath, pleased with his work. “Daddy made a mess of you.”
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	On Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extension of the smutty little scene described in [Five Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146507). Enjoy! x

He pulls open the door, silky soft raven locks bouncing softly about his face.

He wears that dusky sky-blue button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbows, top button undone.

His watch glints in the soft hallway lamplight; his dark eyes smoulder as they trail your form.

You almost sigh just looking at him.

“Perfect timing, gorgeous,” Charlie says in the doorway.

You know the rules, and you’ve mastered the rituals. They’re as clear to you today as they were the very first night you spent with him. Being on time is very important to Daddy, just like minding your manners, and dressing yourself to his exacting standards and precise specifications.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Charlie’s eyes sparkle, and his full, pink petal-soft lips curl ever so subtly in a small smile. “Come in, princess,” he gestures you inside his lavish, well-appointed apartment.

Your heels—tonight’s are the black suede Louboutin’s he’d of course bought for you, these with a thicker, chunkier heel—click-clack on the polished, dark stained wooden floorboards as you step inside.

Charlie loves the sound.

He watches you reach to hang your clutch bag on the coat rack, your trench coat riding up the back of your sheer stockinged thighs. Admiring you, Charlie says, “give Daddy a kiss ‘hello’, kitten.”

Like clockwork, it sends a tickle up your spine. Every, single, time.

**XXXX**

After dinner—the preparation of such being a skill at which Charlie never fails to excel—and wine, and good conversation, Charlie dabs at his mouth with a cotton napkin.

You hold each other’s gaze, simmering, locked together in a soft, quiet, intimate moment.

Charlie kicks out from the dining table suddenly and rises from his seat.

He stalks towards you. You both know what’s coming next. He could demand anything of you, and you both know you’d do it. But will he… shove his fingers in your mouth? Tear open your coat and push his fingers between your legs? Hoist you up by the scruff of your neck and bend you over the dining table?

Slowly, so deliberately slowly, Charlie collects your finished dishes in silence.

Standing unnecessarily close to you he stacks your cutlery with a purposeful carefulness—the weighty stainless steel clinking and clanging on the porcelain—and picks up your plate.

He’s as close as he can get without physically touching you, the fibres of his clothing so close to rubbing against yours, the heat from his body almost palpable in the air around you.

To some it might seem like he’s daring you, but you both know it’s not that. He’s letting you fill your senses with him, and get lost in him, without even needing to touch you. Teasing you with merely his presence and proximity.

You draw a deep breath into your lungs, breathing in the scent of him, and fight a dreamy sigh. You look up into his handsome face.

“Had enough to eat, gorgeous?” Charlie croons quietly.

His eyes are alight, and fiendish. He knows he’s sparking a hunger in you—and not for more of his exquisite cooking.

“Yes, Daddy,” you swallow, “thank you. Delicious. Full.”

One corner of his mouth tugs upwards—amused that you can’t seem to speak in complete sentences, all of a sudden—before he stops it. Making a face with raised brows and a small frown that says, ‘very well, suit yourself,’ Charlie nods and stacks your plate on top of his.

Stepping away, he notices how your form ever so subtly leans to follow him as he stalks to the kitchen. Charlie lets his lips break into a smug grin, certain that you won’t see it.

Blinking out of your daze, you get up to help, stacking and carrying empty serving trays and bowls to the sink where Charlie is. Your heels _click-tap_ on the shiny, large format kitchen tiles.

You set the dishes down on the marble countertop and linger there, leaning on it, sighing wistfully.

Charlie senses your loitering presence beside him. Flicking off the tap to let the dishes soak, he turns to face you and cocks his head to the side, doing everything to stop the smile glinting in his eyes. “Can I help you?”

You fidget with one of your pearl earrings. “Oh, well… I uhm—,”

“You told Daddy you weren’t hungry.”

A slow, creeping warmth rises up your neck as you squirm to hold his lust-laden gaze.

But he won’t make this easy for you. No, why would he ever do that?

Charlie sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and arches a brow. He leans with one arm on the countertop, the other on his hip, a crisp white tea towel slung over his shoulder.

He’s waiting. He’ll let you stew in your own desire for him until he sees fit to rescue you.

Not a moment sooner.

It’s intimidating—it’s intoxicating—the way this Colossus holds himself before you. You try again. “Well—,”

“Yes?” he interrupts, just to throw you off. “Daddy doesn’t have all night, kitten.” He takes the hand from his hip to check his big chunky money watch, then replaces it, fingertips grazing his shiny black leather belt. “Spit it out, would you, princess? I’ve got things to do.”

You know he doesn’t mean it. His thing to do is you.

“What—,” heat graces your chest, “what if I…” after all this time, he still makes your insides quiver in delightful anticipation, “what if I am still hungry, Daddy?”

His dark eyes flash with desire. “Then you’d better tell me what you want.” He steps closer, hands slinking into pockets. “So Daddy can give it to you.”

You way your lips part, the way your chest rises with a soundless gasp—such small, subtle movements. You think they are, anyway. You barely notice yourself doing them, these little involuntary reactions to the things Daddy says to you.

But nothing you do is lost on Charlie.

His eyes rake over your face and down your body. “Hm?” he murmurs, pulling the tea towel from his shoulder slowly, “what’s my princess hungry for?” before tossing it onto the counter lazily. “Tell Daddy.” His eyes never leave yours.

So many words fly through your mind that, in essence, none do.

It’s all you can manage to flit your eyes between his and after moments of indecision breathlessly blurt out, “you, Daddy.”

Charlie’s gaze trails down your face and form again. “Ah,” he grips the knot tying your trench coat together, “I see kitten’s ready to play,” and tugs on it.

Your body rocks towards him with the movement but you nod slowly, gazing into his rich, dark orbs.

Charlie’s gaze flicks from your eyes, to your lips, to your eyes again—and he tugs the hanging end of the knot apart until the sash hangs loose. “You wore [the green](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9e/e2/27/9ee227458cf14dd149f6f73cec212715.jpg)?” he murmurs.

“Of course, Daddy.”

“Hmm.” With two hands he fists the collar of your coat and tugs you closer—your heels skittering on the tiles—and leans in close enough to give you a kiss. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his fingertips glide unhurried over your coat, and he undoes each button, slowly, carefully, working his way from the top all the way down to the bottom. When he’s done, he sighs audibly, and lets your coat hang open on your frame.

Charlie glances at the sliver of your body that’s revealed to him. He hums a short, “mm,” then slips his hands under the shoulder pads to rest his palms on your flesh. “Stockings on first?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe, “like you said. Like you told me.”

Charlie’s lips twitch, holding back another smile. You were doing _all_ the right things tonight—and he had a feeling you knew it.

He lifts the coat from your shoulders, guiding it back, and lets it fall down your arms to pool in an expensive puddle the floor.

Charlie steps backwards with a sigh, assessing you. He crosses one arm across his body, and with the other, rests his upper lip and nose against his index finger. He looks you over, appraising you with an artist’s eye: your hair, done just the way he likes, your dark red lipstick, your pigmented nipples showing through the lace of the soft quarter-cups. The emerald green bodice is high-cut, and the lace falls flatteringly over your hips. “Turn for me, kitten,” Charlie murmurs, speaking over the top of his fingers.

And you do. Of course you do, rotating on the spot to show Daddy every curve and angle.

Charlie can’t help himself from sighing through his nose when your back is to him. The small triangle at the top of the v-string thins and completely disappears between your cheeks.

As you complete your rotation, Charlie nods towards the island and mutters, “there, kitten.”

You know what he means, so you slowly saunter towards it— _click-tap, click-tap, click-tap_ —a demure smile playing at your lips.

You bend over, leaning forward on the counter island, arching your back and sticking your ass out for him. You look to him, and bite your bottom lip.

Maybe he’ll fuck you right here. You’ve been good, haven’t you?

Charlie steps closer, his front to your side, and doing his best to look completely unaffected by your display.

With one hand he cradles your face, slipping his thumb inside your wet mouth; with the other he circles one of your ass cheeks through the lace. “Listen carefully, pretty princess. When I tell you to, you’ll drop to your knees,” he flips the lace skirt up over your backside, and pulls the thin strap of the thong until it snaps back against your hip, “you’ll get on all fours, and you’ll crawl all the way to Daddy’s bed.” Charlie gropes a big handful of your ass, kneading it in his palm.

You hum around his thumb.

Without warning, he brings the hard flat of his hand down on your soft flesh, and you lurch forward with a squeak of surprise. “Got it, kitten?” he huffs.

“Yeffs, Dadghdy,” you say, as his thumb presses down on your tongue.

“Good,” Charlie withdraws his thumb from your mouth. He wipes off your spit and the little ring of mahogany-red lipstick on your shoulder to clean his digit.

Then, saying nothing more, Charlie leaves the kitchen and strides down the hallway, his own Louboutin’s tapping on the floorboards as he goes.

Then, his strong, confident footfalls stop. “Now, kitten,” he calls from down the hall. “Crawl.”

You sink down to the floor of the kitchen, shoving your discarded trench coat out of your path, and begin to crawl your way across the cold tiles.

Charlie waits for you to weave your way around the island and the lower cabinets. When you come into view, slinking across his floor on your hands and knees, the semi he’d been nursing grows and thickens, full and heavy with want.

You spy him, standing tall at the end of the hallway, just before his bedroom. He cuts an imposing figure, his already towering height exaggerated by how low to the ground you are.

He doesn’t say anything to you. He simply slips a hand from a pocket and crooks his index finger, beckoning you to keep coming.

The hallway’s never seemed so long. Pangs of arousal and embarrassment fight in your brain at the thought of how you must look right now, and it makes you break eye contact with him.

“Stop.”

You freeze—the wooden floor suddenly hard on your kneecaps.

“If you look away from me again you aren’t gonna like what happens next.”

You swallow, flicking your eyes up to meet his. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Apology accepted, kitten. Keep your eyes on me.”

You collect yourself, “yes, Daddy,” shrugging off the momentary lapse in focus—

“Come.”

—and continue your prowling creep down the hall.

Hands in his pockets, Charlie watches you, every detail. The way your hips and shoulders roll, how the curve of your ass is exaggerated, your breasts about to fall out of the thin lace.

But it’s your _eyes_ , your gorgeous orbs that track to his like a cat to a laser, and in them, the complete and absolute trust he sees you willingly surrender.

The rush of power it fills him with is enough to make his head spin.

“Keep coming, kitten,” he murmurs when you’re close enough, turning on his heel and walking backwards into his [bedroom](https://media.architecturaldigest.com/photos/5602ff1acbec99cc0f9f6ca8/16:9/w_1600,c_limit/four-poster-beds-04.jpg). “Thiiis way. Follow me.”

You do as he says, crawling across the threshold, your knees meeting the soft, plush carpet and highpile rug on his floor.

“Yeah, kitten…” he pitches his voice low and deep for this, “crawl to Daddy.”

Your insides flutter as you approach his large four-post bed, and Charlie says, “stop. Kneel.”

You sit back on your haunches.

“Taller.”

You raise up, standing on your knees. You’re closer to his crotch like this.

“Stay…” says Charlie slowly, slipping his hands from his pockets to work his belt and fly undone.

When you watch _him_ , gazing into his eyes, and don’t look at his thick fingers working to prise his dick free—Charlie murmurs, “good girl.”

His slacks drop and his belt clinks as it hits the ground. Out of your periphery you see the outline of his monster of a cock in his black trunks.

Charlie lets you sit there, lets you be captivated by him.

He undoes his shirt buttons now, and says, “that red is a pretty colour on you, princess.”

Your heart fills with warmth and light at his praise.

“I knew it would be.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you say, recalling the particular shopping trip he’d taken you on when he’d purchased this lipstick for you. He’d made the sales assistant try every shade on your lips until he found the perfect one: a deep, rich, burnt burgundy-red that complemented the undertones of your skin.

“Can make it prettier, though,” says Charlie, his shirt hanging loose and open as he shirks his trunks off down his legs. He waits there, waits with his eyes locked on yours, testing to see if you break and glance at his cock.

Charlie knows you like looking at it, admiring it, salivating over it.

He knows you dream about it at night, and during the day you fantasise about all the different ways he can stuff you full of it.

But you haven’t so much as snuck a peek, and he wants to reward you for that.

“Make it quick, kitten,” Charlie says.

You glance quickly down, and gasp involuntarily, then shut yourself up and look back at his face.

For that brief moment, all you saw was red-hot need.

The nuances—the things that make Daddy’s cock so uniquely his—were lost on you.

You didn’t absorb the details you know to be there, like the length and thickness, which always make it seem impossible that he’ll ever fit inside you. You don’t catch the subtle colour gradations from pinkish to red to purpley-mauve, the bulging, throbbing blue-green veins that wrap tight around the shaft, or the swollen, pulsing head and prominent, flared ridge that make deepthroating this man worthy of the Olympics.

You don’t pick up any of that, or anything else, this time. You only see how much your Daddy wants you, and how happy you’ve made him.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur.

Charlie’s nostrils flare, his chest rises. “You’re being a real sweetheart to me tonight, kitten.” He leans down and over you, making you crane your neck to follow his gaze. He whispers, hot breath ghosting over your face, “you must want Daddy to wreck that sloppy hole between your legs.”

Before you can respond he grabs your jaw, rough and sudden, and growls at you. “You want it deep, kitten? You wanna feel it in your belly?”

You whimper, “Daddy,” your core lighting up.

“Ahh,” he smirks darkly, fingers flexing on your face and subtly shaking your head, “there’s Daddy’s greedy slut. Hm? This,” he raps his knuckles against your head, like he’s knocking on your brain, “silly thing only thinks with her filthy little cunt.”

“Oh, Daddy,” you whisper, caught up in his words and his scent and his breath and the size of him looming over you—lost in the promise of a deep, hard fuck from Daddy.

He knows it.

“Alright,” Charlie leans back, “let’s make you messy, kitten.” Charlie grips his cock at the root and holds it against your lips. He says, “dribble on it.”

His slit and fleshy frenulum are hot and taut, his flesh turgid, tight and swollen. A drop of wetness meets the middle of your bottom lip.

You make it wetter. You gather some saliva in your mouth and purse your lips, letting it drip and dribble to the underside of his cock head, like he told you to do.

Charlie grunts, “hnf, yeah,” and proceeds to trace your lips with the wet head of his cock.

Then, sighing, he smears your lipstick and spittle all over your mouth, chin, cheeks, nose, with his fat meat, ruining your makeup and making a mess of your face.

When—to anyone else—you look a wreck, Charlie’s heart soars. “So… pretty… princess,” Charlie drawls.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you say, as Charlie rubs his hot, heavy dick all over your face.

“Mmm,” Charlie hums, “more, kitten,” and shoves his cock into your mouth.

You squeak and rock back in a quick moment of surprise.

“No, no, silly slut,” Charlie half-laughs, making a fist in your hair and holding you in place, “keep that pretty little head still, kitten.”

He rocks his hips, rubbing his cock along your slippery tongue and between your stretched out lips. He grumbles, “you drool from everywhere when Daddy makes you gag now _do it_ ,” and pushes hard into your throat.

You retch, stomach and thighs tensing.

“Again, kitten,” Charlie says, a little breathless, and bucks into the back of your mouth once more.

You gag again, wetter this time.

Charlie withdraws his mammoth erection from your mouth and strings of spit connect you.

His mouth curls in a sick sneer.

“More,” he growls, slipping into your mouth again and setting a faster pace, “choke, kitten. Cry.” He knows he’ll soon numb your soft palate to the intrusion, but that’s not quite what he’s going for right now.

Over and over, he thrusts into your face. “Show Daddy those tears.”

You retch and gag, drool pooling in your mouth.

The sound is so fucking erotic to him. “I know they’re in there.”

He thrusts in and holds, then pushes deeper and holds, his fist in your hair holding you close and arresting any reprieve you could hope for, until you’re spluttering and gurgling around his meaty cock, straining for breath.

“Aah,” he sighs, the sound so relaxed and content over the top of your choking throat you can practically hear his shoulders drop.

He withdraws messily, thin threads of spit joining your mouth to his cock, which is covered in bigger globs of your drool.

You gasp for air, drawing it into your lungs noisily, drooling down your own chin.

The sound, the look of you like this, is one of Charlie’s most favourite things.

He gazes at your face. Your ruined red lip colour, your swollen lips, and those pretty eyes, bloodshot and full of unshed tears.

A couple had escaped though, and left mascara-tinted tracks down your cheeks in their wake.

“Oh, kitten.” Charlie takes a deep breath, pleased with his work. “Daddy made a mess of you.”

Unbidden, you hiccup, the result of too much air too quickly. “Thank you, Daddy.”

God, for Charlie, that is just too fucking precious.

“Get up, dirty girl,” he flicks his chin in the direction of the bed, “I wanna see that sloppy cunt.”

As you rise to your feet, Charlie says, “on your back, kitten. All the way on the bed.”

You nod and step towards the bed, preparing to clamber up and get into position.

But Daddy doesn’t do nonverbal shit. You should know that.

Charlie grabs your jaw, hard, stopping you in your tracks. “Didn’t hear you, kitten.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you gasp out, and Charlie squeezes your cheeks tighter, putting pressure on your teeth and forcing your lips ovoid.

“You think if you’re a good girl you can forget your manners when you talk to me?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Apologise.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Good,” he shoves you away. “Apology accepted, and hurry the fuck up.”

You scramble up onto the bed, heat pulsing in your core as you scoot to the middle and lay on your back, all your limbs fully supported by the giant mattress.

Charlie puts one knee up on the edge of the bed. With two fingers he taps one of your ankles and says, “spread ‘em.”

You slide your legs apart, and what Charlie sees between them—

“Such a filthy fucking thing,” he climbs onto the bed and prowls up between your legs. “I try to do nice things for you,” he grips your emerald green thong, the small, thin scrap of fabric marred by a dark patch where your slick has seeped through. “Spend my money on you,” he tugs, hard. “Buy you pretty things,” he lets go and presses into your centre, two fingers wrapped inside your soiled panties, pushing the fabric inside you. “But you’re still a filthy little slut for me, no matter what I do,” he rips his hand away and lands a slap to your pussy, over top of the thin material.

Your hips buck up into it, “Daddy!”

“Show Daddy all your fucking mess,” he snarls, two hands gripping the thin waistband—if it can be called that—of your thong at your hips, and roughly tugging your panties down your legs.

You lay there, legs spread wide, your body encased in silky lacy lingerie and sheer, sexy stockings—even wearing a very expensive pair of shoes—with _nothing_ covering your modesty.

Your pussy blooms for him, slick and drooling.

Charlie hums. “Greedy little cunt.” He sidles closer, murmuring, “always so fucking needy for Daddy, kitten.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you say, breathless, your heart beating against your ribs.

Charlie leans above you, holding himself up one hand while the other treks down over your belly, over your smooth mound—which he’d shaved himself—and dips into your slippery folds.

You gasp, back arching.

“Mmm,” Charlie hums, his fingertips gliding along your silky slit, “I love how messy your slutty little cunt gets for me.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He teases and plays, stroking up and down your hot pussy lips, grazing gently over your clit, “should make you gag on my cock every time, kitten.”

You moan.

“I want you this wet for Daddy all the time, princess, even when you’re not with me.”

“Daddy,” you breathe.

“Want to know that I could walk up to you,” two fingers slide down your slit, “wherever you are,” two fingers prod your cunt, “bend you over and,” two fingers plunge deep inside your tight wet heat, “fuck you as hard as I want.”

“Daddy!” you gasp, back arching, nipples grazing against the delicate lace that encase them.

“Make you fucking scream.” Charlie drags his fat digits along your pussy walls, coating his fingers in your slick.

You whine, tilting our pelvis to get more of him.

“Make you sob.” The long plunge of his fingers inside you is slow, and measured.

“Oh, Daddy.”

“You’re so pretty when you sob for me, kitten. When you cry.”

You whimper, and in a very small voice say, “please, Daddy.”

“This isn’t enough, is it, kitten?” Charlie croons, “Daddy’s greedy little girl needs more.”

“Mmhyes, Daddy. Please.”

Charlie hums.

He sits up, kneeling to the side of your spread legs. His free hand smooths over the soft bodice of lingerie on your belly, flips up the lace skirt, and sinks into that spot between the rise of your mound and your soft lower abdomen.

He pushes down hard, at the same time as he crooks his two fingers inside you and rubs fast and hard against your g-spot.

You cry out, loud.

He croons, “yeahh, kitten, tell Daddy all about it.” His whole hand shakes, rattling your insides and making your flesh ripple.

“Oh my God, _Daddy_!” you keen.

“Ngyeah,” Charlie grunts, his fingers working your insides with urgent haste, “wet fucking cunt loves Daddy’s fingers.”

A strained whine seizes your vocal cords as he presses on you from inside and out.

“Tell me,” Charlie huffs.

You stammer it out, your voice warbling, but you get through the words. “I love your fingers, Daddy, love your fingers so much, Daddy.”

“Fuck.” Charlie wrenches his hands from you, breathing hard.

You’re not so much better yourself, your hips rolling as pleasure washes through your body.

Charlie’s cock throbs, and he smooths his palm over your lower body again, finding that groove and pressing down into it once more.

His palm is so big and warm on your skin.

“Get ready, kitten,” Charlie says, dipping his two slick fingers all the way inside your cunt then all the way back out. He repeats the gesture, and there’s a very soft sucking pop sound to accompany it this time. “Again.”

He does it one more time—burying his fingers to the knuckles before withdrawing all the way out—while he waits for you to catch up with him.

You breathe your reply. “Yes, Daddy.”

Charlie plunges in deep, his fingers finding your g-spot quickly, before he quakes his hand inside you again, unrelenting and unforgiving.

He draws a high-pitched moan from your throat, the sudden and intense pleasure sparking up your spine and down to your toes as Charlie toys with your nerves from the inside, and puts pressure to the same from the outside.

“Come on, come on,” Charlie mutters as he reaches towards your clit with his thumb, the digit digging into your soft flesh and pulling to tug your clit hood back.

The tip of his thumb lightly nudges the very top of your clit—and you shriek and try to close your legs together, the sensations too much, overwhelming.

Charlie pulls his hands from you again, and runs his clean fingers through his hair. He was hoping for a more… explosive reaction.

You’re panting, and he wraps his messy hand your throat—smearing your slick over your neck.

“Daddy’s gonna make,” he’s breathing hard, too, from the exertions of his dominant arm, “this silly little cunt squirt, and I’m not stopping, until you fucking, soak me, kitten.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur breathily, warm pleasure trickling through your veins and into your core.

Charlie’s nostrils flare wide, and he takes his hand from your throat and shoves three fingers into your mouth. “Get ‘em fucking wet.”

You suck and slobber over his digits, and Charlie forces them further along your tongue, pushing your head into the mattress until his longest finger grazes your uvula and you gag.

Charlie makes a grunting growl of acknowledgement, nostrils flaring, and rips his fingers from your mouth.

You suck in air as he sets his hands on your body again.

This time, his rests his thumb on the front of your swelled clit before he presses his palm into your lower guts. Then, his three slick fingers toy with the entrance to your cunt.

“Wet the bed, kitten,” he says, and plunges all three fingers inside your tight, slick hole.

“Fuck!” you cry out, “Daddy!”

He pumps his fingers hard and fast, jolting your whole lower half. “What, little princess wants Daddy to stop? Silly girl can’t take it?”

“No, Daddy. Please.” He stretches you out, three fat fingers pumping hard and raking along your silky walls.

“No?” Charlie flicks his thumb back and forth across the front of your clit. “Then fucking do it. Squirt for Daddy, kitten.”

“ _Daddy_ ,” you keen, and when Charlie changes the pass of his thumb—from side to side to up and down, where he can be quicker—you gush for him.

It erupts from your urethra in a wet stream, running over his hand, down your folds and over your asshole, trickling between your cheeks to soak the sheets in a sopping puddle beneath your ass.

“ _God_ yeah, _fuck_ yeah,” Charlie groans through clenched teeth, “good _fucking_ girl.”

“O-h, Da-dd-y,” your voice is a shrill, staccato moan as Charlie keeps pumping your pussy with three fingers and rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“Knew this filthy little cunt would fucking gush for me.”

Your skin tingles, your thighs twitching as Charlie buffs your clit. You’re heating up, getting hot all over. “Th-thank you, Daddy.”

“Mmmh,” Charlie growls, pleased with you.

You fist the duvet with perspiring palms, and your words are punctuated by the suck of your drenched, squelching pussy. So primal and lewd. It adds to your building pleasure.

“ _Fuuck_ ,” Charlie grumbles—eyeing the little droplets of squirt on his hand—and his voice is so raw and animalistic that your hips jolt in an upward tilt and your pussy clenches on his digits.

But his broad, flat palm presses down above your mound and holds you steady. “You’re not tightening up on me already, kitten, are you?”

“Daddy, Daddy,” you pant, the start of it rising and simmering in your core.

“No, this dirty little cunt wouldn’t dare cum unless Daddy said so.”

But it heightens. “Daddy, _please_.” It’s there, it’s _right_ there, about to burst and crash down over you. You just need him to say ‘yes’, and you’re finished.

In the blink of an eye Charlie yanks his fingers from your pussy, spreads your fleshy outer labia and lands a hard slap to your cunt.

You shriek.

Your legs fold as the throbbing agony of denial mixes with the stinging, singeing pleasure of one of Daddy’s spanks.

Your body undulates—you gasp, “Daddy,”—from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

“Get,” Charlie’s voice is gruff. He grabs you rough behind your knees, “get these open,” and shoves your legs apart. “I slap you and you say, ‘thank you, Daddy,’ or did silly slut forget?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you gasp.

“I taught you better than this, kitten.”

Your voice is shaky, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Again,” says Charlie, and smacks you again, this one glancing your clit.

Your hips jolt, a rushing heat swells in your core. “Thank! you, Daddy.”

“Three more,” Charlie says, and lands two sharp hard spanks to your pussy lips in quick succession— _smack_ , _smack_.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh shoots through you a half-second before the pleasurable pain does, and your legs twitch and jolt as you stammer out your gratitude.

Even Charlie, with the firm grip he has on the back of one of your knees, can’t keep you as still as he wants.

But the slip of his fingers on your cunt as he struck you… were you getting _wetter_?

“Filthy fucking thing,” Charlie murmurs as he runs his fingertip down your drenched slit, testing, “dirty little girl for me.”

The light touch is so gentle, such a contrast from the hard slaps, it makes you whimper. Your legs liquefy. “Daddy—,”

“Keep your legs still, kitten. Last one,” says Charlie… and then he spanks your cunt hard, almost too hard, a smack designed to hit your clit, which he knows will make your legs clamp shut.

“Daddy!” you cry, pulling your legs up into yourself, sparks of hot pain-laced pleasure tingling in your nerves and the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Jesus,” he huffs, feigning more irritation than he genuinely feels, gripping the crook of your knees tight and pushing your legs apart, “silly little slut. What did Daddy say?”

“Mm-my legs, Daddy,” you stutter, a throbbing ache growing heavier your core.

“Yeah, kitten, your fucking legs move too fucking much.”

“’m so-sorry, Daddy. I just—,”

“You just what, hm? Little princess got something she wants to say to me?”

“Just, you, it f-felt so good, Daddy.”

Charlie grunts. He gets up off the bed and very sternly warns you not to move.

You hear him pad into the spare room, followed by the slide of wooden drawers and the rustling ruffle of bits and pieces.

Not a moment later, Daddy returns: his dark, luscious hair bounces softly with every step, and his undone dusty-blue button-up billows around his solid torso. In his hands, the dark green, smooth silk bindings.

He stops at the foot of the bed and gestures, “swing around this way, kitten.”

You shuffle around.

Charlie says, “yeah. Face me.”

You do as he says and Charlie makes quick work of restraining your legs. For each one, he ties one end of the silk around your ankle and knots the other end around the bedpost.

“Kick,” he says, and you flail your legs to test the bonds.

Charlie’s satisfied: there’s enough slack in the length of the bindings not to keep your legs taut and strained, but you can’t close your thighs together either. “Good, kitten,” Charlie says, and you stop.

He crawls up onto the bed.

Daddy’s erection is in full, gargantuan force, and hangs hot and heavy between his legs as he approaches you. The thought is fleeting in your pleasure-addled mind: how does he walk with that big thing swinging between his legs?

“Daddy.”

The word is out of your mouth before you can think to stop it.

Charlie glances up at you quickly, quizzically, his dark eyes searching yours with a hint of concern. “Yes, kitten?”

You lick your lips and swallow. It wouldn’t do not to finish what you started.

“What is it, gorgeous?” Charlie says.

You take a breath. “I like your cock, Daddy. It’s big.”

That takes him by surprise. He gazes at you, his eyes softening and glimmering and his mouth curling into a subtle smile.

“It is, kitten, and I know you do,” Charlie says, resuming his shuffle between your legs. “You fit Daddy’s cock so well inside your little cunt. Always a snug, tight fit inside for such a filthy thing.”

Your heart soars. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Mm,” hums Charlie, a little distractedly as he assesses your cunt. “Daddy made your cunt lips big and puffy, kitten.”

You draw in a breath. You knew they must’ve looked swollen. You felt so hot between your legs.

Charlie’s index finger trails over your slick, puffed up folds, teasing you and igniting your nerves once more. His hair falls into his regal face, and his now-creased and crumpled shirt hangs open over the soft planes and subtle rolls of this thick, sturdy torso.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you now, kitten.” He grips and strokes his cock once, pushing the silky, ruddy-pink foreskin up over the fat, flared head and then pulling it back down to show off his leaking slit. His fist— _he_ can make a fist all the way around it, but _you_ can’t—rests at the root of his colossal endowment. “Gonna cleave you in two.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“And if this greedy little cunt is nice and tight,” he runs the head of his cock through your hot, slippery lips, wetting the pulsing underside of it with your slick, “I’ll let you cum on Daddy’s big cock.”

Your stomach flips. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Let’s see…” Charlie murmurs, trailing off. He slides his cock from your clit, through your folds, parting them, until the bloated, purpled head slips inside your waiting, eager pussy easily.

Charlie lets out a sigh through his nose; you suck in a breath.

He wedges his fingers beneath the lacy skirt of your lingerie and grabs firm hold your hips. “That’s a good start, kitten,” he murmurs, and beings to roll his pelvis into yours.

“Hhmm _mh_ ,” Charlie growls, pushing in until your pussy doesn’t let him anymore, drawing back, then pushing through your walls again. He mutters, “Daddy’s gonna break this tight little cunt.”

“Daddy.” Your breaths are gasps, short, shallow, squeaky things that make him even stiffer.

“Hmmhh,” he huffs, as little by little, Charlie spreads apart your insides for his passage, opening up your cunt around his dick. “Take my cock, kitten. Take it.”

Your wet heat absorbs more and more of his long, thick, veiny cock, between gasps and sighs of, “Daddy,” drawn from deep inside your lungs.

Charlie’s nostrils flare when he’s finally fucked his huge cock all the way into you, balls deep with a sigh. He knows his cock is least two sizes too big for the make and model of your cunt, but, “greedy fucking thing,” you are, “you swallowed every inch of Daddy’s cock, kitten.”

You try to clench and talk, feeling like all the air’s been forced out of you. “T-tight like you w-wanted, Daddy?”

You’re stretched and stuffed full of him, and Charlie can feel your heartbeat pulsing around his stiff, aching dick. He feels you try to squeeze him, but he’s maxed you out, there’s no room inside your cunt to do anything but be the perfect little hole to sheath his fat cock tight.

“Yeahh, kitten,” Charlie groans, drawing his hips back, pulling out of your pussy slowly and rutting back in along the path he made for himself. “So f _uh_ cking tight, _shit_ , you want Daddy’s cock so bad you’ll let me crack your little cunt open just to feel it.”

You gasp, the friction stoking the flames of your denied orgasm, “mmmh Daddy, yes.”

Charlie rolls his hips forward and draws them back with increasing pace and depth, the long drags of cock building to pistoning thrusts in that rhythm, at that angle, that draws grunts from him and moans from you.

“Ahffuck,” he groans, “God I love fucking this little fucking cunt.”

“Daddy,” you keen, a high, needy sound.

“Fucking tight, fucking hungry for me,” Charlie grunts, his thumb finding your clit easily. “Kitten loves the way Daddy stuffs her with his big cock.”

You moan as his thumb glides over your clit.

“Hnnf, yeah, Daddy’s gonna ream you out, kitten.”

Your hips rock, you fist the sheets. You try to wrap your legs around his bucking hips but the ties at your ankles stop you, keeping you spread open for him.

Charlie rubs circles into your clit, right into that special spot you cream for, with the pressure he knows you need.

You feel it, and you clench up and cry out.

Charlie knows your body so well, he’ll drive you to the edge of that blissful abyss quick smart, like it’s nothing to bring you hurtling towards orgasm while he fills you full of himself. “Gonna get my cock all wet, kitten, huh-hh?”

“Oh, Daddy.” Everything starts to tremble, from your chin to your inner thighs.

“Come on, do it.”

He snaps his hips hard and you flare up, pleasure catching alight, your slick pussy seizing his invading cock.

“Want one more out of you after this,” Charlie pants. “Do it now, kitten. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

Your orgasm, previously denied, comes tearing through you with a vengeance. You shake and cry, your pussy convulsing and clenching and clamping as Charlie is ferocious with your body, pressing down hard on your pulsing clit and ramming into you like he wants to shatter your pelvis. The grunts you pull from him are primitive.

“ _Daddy_ ,” you groan, a deep and guttural thing as he rails your spasming, gushing cunt.

“Fu-uuh-ckkh,” Charlie groans, the curse punctuated by hard thrusts as your pussy walls massage his cock.

You feel hot and loose, the contractions of your orgasm subsiding, your chanted prayer of, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” becoming a whisper.

With the absence of your ecstatic moans, the sound that rings in the room is your pussy squelching slick around Charlie’s pumping cock.

He loves it. “Dirty fucking girl. So ffucking sloppy for me.”

“MmmhDaddy,” you moan.

“All over, all of you, fucking mess.” He’d know. He made you that way.

“Yes, Daddy. For you, Daddy,” you murmur. Charlie’s finger hasn’t let up on your clit, and the continued pressure makes your nerves and skin tingle. There’s _more_ in you, flickering, glimmering in your core.

Waiting for him to draw it out. Anxious for it.

“Christ,” Charlie huffs. “For me,” he grips your hips and tugs you closer to his body, pulling all your weight towards him easily, “all for Daddy.”

He changes pace, now slower but steady and solid and _deep_ , giving you the full benefit of every inch of his girthy cock. He gently eases his digit off your clit and plants two fingers in a ‘v’ shape either side of it, stroking both sides of the puffy bud in tandem, in time with his deep thrusts.

It’s like the kindling, before he lights you up again, and your pussy seizes on him with involuntarily aftershocks as you gasp, “Daddy.”

Charlie’s eyes glint devilishly, dark with lust and a swollen, soaring ego. With the punch of his cock inside you now aided by the extra silky slippery smoothness of your cum, he wants to make you see stars—see galaxies.

“Daddy said ‘one more’, didn’t he, kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you sigh.

“Mmm,” Charlie hums. He withdraws from you with a disgustingly wet shuck and spreads your slit open at the top of it, exposing your still semi-erect clit.

Charlie taps his coated cock head against your tingling, sensitive bud repeatedly, and the sparks of almost-too-much-pleasure make your thighs twitch.

Just like he knew they would. “Yeahh kitten. Shake. Daddy’s gonna get your little clit hard again.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, the tapping and the little wet slapping sounds that accompany it teasing more desire from your core, “Daddy.”

He huffs a laugh, “greedy cunt,” and slips his cock head through your folds, bringing cum from your slick opening up to douse your swelling clit. “Hmmhh,” he sighs, “princess makes so much cum for Daddy.”

Your hips rock up, trying to angle your pussy so his cock might ‘accidentally’ dip inside your slick, throbbing heat.

“Really?” Charlie sighs, continuing to slide his cock through your glistening pussy lips, but avoiding where you want him most. “Daddy does so much for you, but you just can’t keep yourself still. Can you, little fuckin’ princess. Not even once.”

A whine catches in your throat. “Sorry, Daddy—but pl—,”

“But what?” he grounds out, slapping his cock head into your clit again.

“Hnnh, Daddy,” you moan, and push your pelvis up, pushing your engorged bud up to meet the firm, fleshy underside of his dick.

“Ohh,” Charlie laughs at you, a purely sadistic response to your growing need, “who’s a dirty fucking girl, huh?” It’s like he’s talking to a pet dog, his voice sing-song, and cruel about it. “Who is it, kitten, hm? Tell Daddy. Is it you,” he lands a hard slap to your outer thigh, and growls through clenched teeth, caught up in it, “greedy little slutty cunt you are?”

“Hmmmh,” you whimper, “Daddy.”

“That’s it,” he spits out, “I’ve had it with you.” Charlie grabs his cock and squares it up to your cunt, spreads your fleshy outer labia and shoves it in—all of it, the totality of his lengthy, fat, knee-quaking cock, buried to the hilt inside you with one deep, hard, effortless thrust.

He faced no resistance. Your pussy just _took_ him, swallowed him whole.

Charlie snarls, and gives you no time to adjust before hollowing out your tight cunt all over again, punching frenzied, rapturous moans from your lungs.

“Show me these, give me these,” he mutters as he reaches for your breasts. He says it almost to himself, like he’s ignorant of your noises, and doesn’t hear them—or maybe, he does hear them, but he’s indifferent to the sweet, desperate sounds of your pleasure as he fucks you. Unmoved by the plight of your voicebox and its mission to tell him how good he’s making you feel.

Either scenario couldn’t be further from reality.

Charlie grabs a tight hold on one of your lace cups and pulls, tugging hard, ripping seams.

He pushes down on your jostling belly with one hand, pinning you in place, and with the other, pinches and squeezes and rolls the stiff, swollen nipple he’d exposed.

You screech.

Charlie pants and says, “you’ll fucking cum again, kitten, and on _my_ cock.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“All over Daddy’s big dick. Say it.”

You’re hot, sweaty, getting fucked within an inch of your sanity and another orgasm on the horizon, rising in your bones like the morning sun.

Talking isn’t easy, but you try anyway.

Because Daddy told you to, and you’re good for him.

“Gonna—,” you gasp the first word out and Charlie assails your clit as soon as it leaves your mouth, rubbing over the big bud quickly with the backs of his fingers.

They slip and slide easily.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you cry, strangled, and say, “Daddy, hhmmgonna cum all over your big dick.”

But that’s not what it sounds like to Charlie, with every stab of his stiff, meaty cock breaking up your words, knocking the air from your lungs as he pounds into you ruthlessly.

No, it sounds chopped up, wretched and frantic. Sounds like you’re hanging on by the last threads of your wits.

With the way your cunt clings to him, there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s right about that.

So—battering around deep inside your cunt, buffing your stiff clit and tweaking one your painfully hard nipples—he’s got three little words for you.

“Cum for Daddy,” Charlie says, and you break into a million tiny effervescent pieces.

The sound you make is otherworldly—when you can make sound, that is—as Charlie wrings another powerful orgasm from you. Your whole body shakes and undulates with wild tremors. The bindings around your ankles go taught, relax, go taut, relax as your legs spasm violently, rattling the sturdy bedframe. And your cunt—your _cunt_ —

Charlie thinks he’s going to die. He has to stop stuffing you full of his cock and shove in, all the way in, just push in deep and hold and _fuck_ —he’s never been a religious man, but he swears he knows the unknowable when your cunt squeezes and floods his cock like this.

He pulls your hips down towards his pelvis at the same time as he pushes in. He pulls your clenching cunt onto his aching cock as he buries himself impossibly deeper, as if your sweet fucking greedy fucking filthy little pussy goes on forever and he’s not satisfied he’s met the end of it yet.

Maybe he’s in your womb, he thinks for a second, and nearly blows it inside your cunt right there.

Your screams of pleasure gently diminuendo and that’s when his attention is called back to your face and he notices—

“Oh, _kitten_.”

—that’s when he sees them, more of them, running down your face in the cutest little bliss-born droplets. The sight makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

Charlie’s fingers graze your clit again and you yelp, cunt spasming.

He manoeuvres his thumb to press and stroke the little bud and you wail, pussy seizing hard.

You grip his wrist. You’d try so hard to let him, you thought maybe you could cum again but you know, you know, your nerves are fried and spent, shot to bits.

“Daddy,” you sniffle, shimmering aftershocks running through your every limb.

Charlie stops.

Oh, but he’s absolutely got to keep fucking going.

He rolls his hips, slowly, back, then forth, and you _sob_.

Your beating pumping pulsing cunt is just so sensitive around his cock.

Charlie feels his dick get stiffer, his balls draw up tight. “Oh, princess,” he coos, leaning over you with one palm flat on the mattress, the other wrapped around your jaw as he very quickly builds a vigorous, punishing pace for your poor, puffy pussy. It draws a long moan from your throat, and nasty slapslapslaps from your drenched, stretched hole.

Your tears wet his fingers.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Yeahh. Cry, kitten. Cry for Daddy.”

You whimper, and sob: fresh, hot tears of bliss running from your eyes and down your temples, into your hair.

The man adores it.

“So fucking pretty,” Charlie grunts, his grip on your jaw firm as he leans closer, kissing your skin and licking up your salty tears, sweet as honey on his tongue. “Fucking, mmhlove when Daddy makes you cry, kitten.”

“Daddy.” Your voice is hoarse and hollow. Broken.

That does it.

That triggers Charlie’s orgasm and he bucks into you faster, harder, a man possessed, sheathing his cock in your hot tight wet cunt until the last reckless second.

“ _FUCK_!” Charlie pulls out and shoots his thick, hot load all over your belly and breasts.

Each convulsion deep in his gut pulls groans and grunts and sighs from his lungs. His hips stutter and buck into nothing as cum pours from the slit of his cock damn near continuously, his big, heavy, full balls contracting rhythmically as they’re drained dry.

Charlie pants, coming down, and knows he’ll need a longer rest before the next round. That one, was a big one.

On knees made of jelly, which he hides well, he looses the bonds at your ankles enough for you to kick out of them.

He looks down at you through hot, panting breaths. You, with lipstick smeared over your face, mascara tracks down your cheeks, your pussy lips used and swollen and your thighs twitching intermittently as your nerves recover from his blitz.

There’s also—how he _loves_ to see it—his creamy, viscous, heavy load of cum streaked over your ripped up, ruined lacy lingerie in long, white ropes.

The contrast is so aesthetically pleasing.

Caressing your ankle in gentle circles, with his shirt and hair sweat-stuck to his skin, his large, softening cock hanging bloated and red between his thick, pale thighs, Charlie gazes at you. He can’t take his eyes off you. He murmurs the words, his voice murky deep and low in the post-bliss haze of giving you a deep, thorough fucking and busting a fat one all over you.

Charlie huffs, like the wind has been knocked out of him, and he says to you, “you’re my pretty princess, aren’t you, kitten? Daddy’s pretty princess.”


End file.
